
Hobbies and interests
Urdu
Dance
Acting And Theater
Biology
Badminton
Reading
History
Historical
Religion
I read books multiple times per month
Laiba Ubaid
2,055
Bold Points
Laiba Ubaid
2,055
Bold PointsBio
Hi! My name is Laiba, aiming to do big things in the future.
Education
University of Nevada-Las Vegas
Bachelor's degree programMajors:
- Biological and Biomedical Sciences, Other
Valley High School
High SchoolMiscellaneous
Desired degree level:
Doctoral degree program (PhD, MD, JD, etc.)
Graduate schools of interest:
Transfer schools of interest:
Majors of interest:
Career
Dream career field:
Medicine
Dream career goals:
Public services
Volunteering
Sunrise Hospital — Front Desk Volunteer / Patient Companion2024 – PresentVolunteering
Project 150 — Inventory Assistant2023 – Present
Leading Through Humanity & Heart Scholarship
1. Growing up in Saudi Arabia in a multigenerational home taught me the value of family, empathy, and community. I spent my childhood immersed in stories from my grandparents, learning from my mother’s dedication as a chemistry teacher, and witnessing my father’s perseverance as a map analyst. These experiences instilled in me a love of learning, resilience, and a desire to give back.
Moving to America introduced challenges, cultural shifts, financial hardship, and language barriers but also strengthened my resolve. Experiencing the losses of my grandparents deeply impacted me, teaching me the fragility of life and the importance of compassionate care. These moments transformed my curiosity about the human body and problem-solving in science into a calling: I want to become a physician who combines skill with empathy, presence, and understanding.
My passion for health and wellness extends beyond medicine. Witnessing global disparities in access to food and care motivates me to approach human health holistically, addressing not only immediate needs but also underlying social, economic, and educational barriers. My mission is to serve others with compassion, skill, and purpose.
2. To me, empathy is the ability to understand another person’s experience deeply and respond with compassion and action. It goes beyond sympathy; it is active listening, recognizing unspoken needs, and connecting on a human level. Empathy is essential in medicine because patients often face vulnerability, fear, and uncertainty. A physician’s ability to truly see and understand their patients can transform care, making treatment more effective and comforting.
My understanding of empathy has been shaped most profoundly by the losses of my grandparents. When my grandfather passed away, I experienced one of the most defining moments of my life. That same day, I had come home excited to share that I’d been chosen as a web crew leader, a role I had worked hard to earn. Instead, I was met with the devastating news of his death. That moment shattered me, but it also opened my heart to a new kind of empathy. I began to feel a deeper connection to people’s pain and a stronger desire to heal, both emotionally and physically.
That feeling deepened with the loss of my grandmother, my best friend. Her passing did not come as a distant phone call; it unfolded right before my eyes. I was at her bedside, holding her hand, praying for a miracle, when I heard the final beep and watched the heart monitor go still. That moment is etched into my memory. It brought not only grief but also a profound awareness of life’s fragility and the impact of compassionate, skilled care. In that silence, I realized I didn’t just want to become a doctor; I needed to. I want to be the kind of physician who is present, compassionate, and capable when it matters most.
Practicing medicine with a human-centered approach means focusing on the person, not just the illness. It means listening without judgment, understanding a patient’s background, and shaping care to fit their unique situation. In underserved communities, where health inequalities are greater, empathy helps me build trust, advocate for patients, and address challenges that go beyond medical symptoms.
I plan to keep my work human-centered by practicing active listening, asking for patient feedback, and working with healthcare teams to support the whole person. Outside the clinic, I hope to take part in global health efforts that provide direct care while also improving education, nutrition, and economic stability. By addressing both urgent needs and long-term barriers, I want to create lasting solutions for health and wellness.
To me, empathy is the link between knowledge and action. It drives my commitment to medicine, reminding me to see patients as people with stories, struggles, and strengths. By keeping humanity at the center of everything I do, I hope to offer care that heals, empowers, and respects the dignity of every individual.
Sloane Stephens Doc & Glo Scholarship
Growing up in Saudi Arabia, my world was full of joy, warmth, and deep-rooted family values. I spent the first decade of my life in a vibrant home that housed not only my immediate family but also my grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Our home was always alive with laughter and the aroma of traditional foods. Some of my fondest memories were sitting with my grandfather as he shared stories or helped with homework, while my grandmother served us meals with love. Life felt simple and full of purpose, even through the eyes of a ten-year-old.
I’ve always been fascinated by science and math. Even as a child, I loved exploring how the human body works and solving problems that required focus and logic. I dreamed of becoming a surgeon, though at the time, it was just a dream. My mother, a dedicated chemistry teacher who also tutored students at home, inspired my passion for learning. I eagerly joined her sessions to ask questions and learn. My father worked hard as a map analyst, and both of them instilled in me the value of education, perseverance, and community.
But everything changed when my family decided to move to America. I remember the heartbreak of leaving behind my grandparents, the people who gave me so much love and wisdom, as they waved goodbye at the airport with tears in their eyes. The transition was difficult. Cultural shifts, financial hardships, and language barriers tested my family in every way. I watched my parents and older sisters struggle, often quietly absorbing the weight of their sacrifices. I faced bullying in middle school, but I found refuge in the subjects I loved, science and math, where I began to excel again. Slowly, I built confidence and found ways to give back, like joining a leadership club to help incoming students adjust.
One of the most defining moments of my life came the day I returned home eager to share some exciting news, only to learn my grandfather had passed away. That loss shattered me but also deepened my empathy. The feeling deepened when I lost my grandmother, my best friend, as I held her hand and watched the heart monitor fall silent. Those moments, etched in my memory, gave me a profound awareness of life’s fragility and the importance of compassionate, attentive care. I don’t just want to become a doctor; I feel compelled to be one, present and empathetic when it matters most.
My desire to help others, especially those without access to basic necessities, has only grown stronger. I’m deeply moved by the crisis of starvation in places like Gaza, Yemen, Sudan, and Somalia, where suffering stems less from a lack of food than from limited opportunity, instability, and weak infrastructure. That’s why I’m pursuing medicine as more than a career, aiming to work with global nonprofits, provide care in underserved areas, and help fight hunger by giving food to those in need, all while building a life that supports both my family and struggling communities.
One of my biggest goals in the next five years is to be enrolled in one of the top medical schools while continuing to save money so I can support my family and fund my education without burdening them. This scholarship would lighten my family’s burden and let me focus on my education and mission to serve. It would bring me closer to giving back to those facing harsher realities.
There is a spark of deeper meaning I’ve always chased, and now I’m ready to light that spark for others.
Eric W. Larson Memorial STEM Scholarship
Growing up in Saudi Arabia, my world was full of joy, warmth, and deep-rooted family values. I spent the first decade of my life in a vibrant home that housed not only my immediate family but also my grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Our two-story house was always alive with laughter, learning, and the aroma of traditional foods. Some of my fondest memories are sitting with my grandfather as he told me stories about my mother’s childhood or helped me with my English homework, while my grandmother brought us meals with love. Life felt simple and full of purpose, even through the eyes of a ten-year-old.
I’ve always been fascinated by science and math. Even as a child, I loved exploring how the human body works and solving problems that required focus and logic. I dreamed of becoming an orthopedic surgeon, though at the time, it was just a dream. My mother, a dedicated chemistry teacher who also tutored students at home, inspired my passion for learning. I’d eagerly wait for her sessions just so I could ask questions and soak up knowledge from her students. My father worked hard as a map analyst, and both of them instilled in me the value of education, perseverance, and community.
But everything changed when my family decided to move to America. I remember the heartbreak of leaving behind my grandparents, the people who gave me so much love and wisdom, as they waved goodbye at the airport with tears in their eyes. The transition was difficult. Cultural shifts, financial hardships, and language barriers tested my family in every way. I watched my parents and older sisters struggle, often quietly absorbing the weight of their sacrifices. I faced bullying in middle school, but I found refuge in the subjects I loved, science and math, where I began to excel again. Slowly, I built confidence and found ways to give back, like joining a leadership club to help incoming students adjust.
Then came one of the most defining moments of my life. The same day I came home excited to share the news that I’d become a web crew leader, I found out my grandfather had passed away, through a phone call from back home. That moment broke my heart but also awakened a deeper empathy and a desire to help others heal.
That feeling deepened when I experienced the loss of my grandmother, my best friend. Her passing didn’t come through a phone call; it happened right in front of my eyes. I was at her bedside, holding her hand, praying for a miracle, when I heard the final beep and saw the heart monitor go still. That moment is etched in my memory. It brought not only grief but also a deep awareness of life’s fragility and the impact of compassionate, skilled care. I don’t just want to become a doctor; I need to. I want to be the kind of doctor who is present, compassionate, and capable when it matters most.
My desire to help others, especially those without access to basic necessities, only grew stronger. I’m deeply moved by the issue of starvation around the world, in places like Gaza, Yemen, Sudan, and Somalia, where people suffer not because of a lack of food but a lack of opportunity, stability, and economic infrastructure. If I had the means, I would open a nonprofit that not only provides food aid but also addresses the root causes of starvation. My dream is to create programs that help people launch small businesses, giving ten families in each struggling region a chance to thrive, not just survive.
This desire to help doesn’t come from a place of charity; it comes from deep understanding. I’ve seen struggle. I’ve lived through it. And I’ve learned that education is the key to change. For me, medicine is not just a career; it’s a mission to serve. I want to work with global nonprofits, provide care in underserved areas, and build a life that allows me to support my family and help others thrive.
One of my biggest goals in the next five years is to be enrolled in one of the top medical schools while continuing to save money so I can support my family and fund my education without burdening them. As a woman from a country where girls often don’t pursue advanced education, I feel a responsibility to break that barrier, not just for myself, but for others like me. I was lucky to come from a family that prioritized women’s education. My two sisters and I have taken that legacy forward, helping run the household, supporting our incredible mother, who carries so much and yet never complains, and excelling in school to make our family proud.
Leadership, to me, isn’t about titles. It’s about showing up when things get hard. It’s about being the first to speak up for others, the one who volunteers even when no one else does, and the person who makes sure everyone feels seen. Whether it was mentoring new students, comforting friends, or helping my family through transitions, I’ve learned that leadership is action rooted in empathy.
I know the road ahead won’t be easy, but I’ve learned how to stay grounded through life’s uncertainties. My own challenges have shaped me, but they also made me aware of how much harder life is for many others, where even basic needs aren’t guaranteed. That awareness keeps me humble and deeply grateful for the opportunities I’ve had. Receiving this scholarship would ease the burden my family carries and allow me to focus more fully on my education and my mission to serve. It would bring me one step closer to giving back to those whose daily realities are shaped by struggle.
There is a spark in this world, a sense of deeper meaning, that I’ve always chased. And now, more than ever, I’m ready to be the person who lights that spark for others.
Ismat's Scholarship for Empowering Muslim Women
Growing up in Saudi Arabia, I was surrounded by warmth, faith, and family. Our home was shared with my grandparents, aunts, and uncles, a place filled with joy, support, and tradition. As a child, I spent countless hours in my grandfather’s room, listening to stories about my mother’s youth or getting help with my English homework. My grandmother, with her gentle spirit, always had a plate of food ready and a kind word to share. This environment shaped my earliest dreams, especially my desire to become a doctor.
My passion for science and math took root early. I was fascinated by how the body worked, and I loved solving complex problems. My mother, a dedicated chemistry teacher, and my father, a hardworking map analyst, instilled in me the value of education. I was inspired by my mother’s dedication to tutoring students in our home; I often listened in, eager to learn more. Even then, I knew I wanted to serve others through knowledge and care.
At age ten, my life changed when my family moved to the United States. I remember tears in my eyes at the airport, waving goodbye to my grandparents. The transition was difficult, with a new culture, language barriers, and financial struggles. I watched my parents and older sisters work tirelessly, sacrificing for our future. As the third child, I tried to stay strong, often hiding my own challenges to avoid adding to their burdens.
Middle school came with its own struggles, including bullying, but I pushed through by reconnecting with my love for learning. When I was selected as a web crew leader to welcome new students, I came home filled with pride, only to be met with the devastating news of my grandfather’s passing. That day, joy and grief collided in a way I’ll never forget. And more recently, I experienced the loss of my grandmother, my best friend. I sat beside her in the hospital, praying for a miracle until the heart monitor fell silent. That moment awakened me to the sacred responsibility of healing and the reality of healthcare. It made my calling even clearer: I want to be a doctor not only to treat patients but also to comfort families and to be present when it matters most.
As a Muslim, I believe we are called to live with purpose. Islam teaches that serving others, regardless of their background, is among the highest forms of worship. That is my purpose. I want to become a skilled, compassionate physician who works with nonprofits to offer care to those in underserved communities. I dream of starting a nonprofit that not only provides food aid to areas facing starvation, like Gaza, Sudan, and Yemen. In the next five years, I hope to be in a top medical school while continuing to save money to support both my education and my family.
I also carry my identity as a woman from a background where women’s education is not always encouraged. I’m proud to come from a family that broke that mold; my mother, my sisters, and I all believe in education as empowerment. We support each other and work hard for a better future.
I know I’ve been given opportunities others only dream of. My hardships don’t compare to those living hour by hour in crisis. That’s why, if I receive this scholarship, I will pay it forward by mentoring young students like myself, especially immigrant girls, and reminding them that their voice and story matter.
Baby OG: Next Gen Female Visionary Scholarship
Growing up in Saudi Arabia, my world was full of joy, warmth, and deep-rooted family values. I spent the first decade of my life in a vibrant home that housed not only my immediate family but also my grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Our two-story house was always alive with laughter, learning, and the aroma of traditional foods. Some of my fondest memories are sitting with my grandfather as he told me stories about my mother’s childhood or helped me with my English homework, while my grandmother brought us meals with love. Life felt simple and full of purpose, even through the eyes of a ten-year-old.
I’ve always been fascinated by science and math. Even as a child, I loved exploring how the human body works and solving problems that required focus and logic. I dreamed of becoming an orthopedic surgeon, though at the time, it was just a dream. My mother, a dedicated chemistry teacher who also tutored students at home, inspired my passion for learning. I’d eagerly wait for her sessions just so I could ask questions and soak up knowledge from her students. My father worked hard as a map analyst, and both of them instilled in me the value of education, perseverance, and community.
But everything changed when my family decided to move to America. I remember the heartbreak of leaving behind my grandparents, the people who gave me so much love and wisdom, as they waved goodbye at the airport with tears in their eyes. The transition was difficult. Cultural shifts, financial hardships, and language barriers tested my family in every way. I watched my parents and older sisters struggle, often quietly absorbing the weight of their sacrifices. I faced bullying in middle school, but I found refuge in the subjects I loved, science and math, where I began to excel again. Slowly, I built confidence and found ways to give back, like joining a leadership club to help incoming students adjust.
Then came one of the most defining moments of my life. The same day I came home excited to share the news that I’d become a web crew leader, I found out my grandfather had passed away. That moment shattered me, but it also opened my heart to a new kind of empathy. I began to feel a deeper connection to people’s pain and a desire to heal, emotionally and physically.
That feeling deepened recently when I experienced the heartbreaking loss of my grandmother, my best friend. Her passing didn’t come through a phone call; it happened right in front of my eyes. I sat beside her hospital bed, holding her hand, praying for a miracle. I watched the machines closely, hoping for change, until I heard the final beep, and the heart line went still. That image is etched in my memory. It awakened something in me, not only grief, but also a sharp awareness of the fragile line between life and death and how powerful good care in a hospital setting can be. It made my purpose even clearer: I don’t just want to become a doctor, I need to. I want to be the kind of doctor who is present, compassionate, and skilled enough to make a difference when it matters most.
My desire to help others, especially those without access to basic necessities, only grew stronger. I’m deeply moved by the issue of starvation around the world, in places like Gaza, Yemen, Sudan, and Somalia, where people suffer not because of a lack of food but a lack of opportunity, stability, and economic infrastructure. If I had the means, I would open a nonprofit that not only provides food aid but also addresses the root causes of starvation. My dream is to create programs that help people launch small businesses, giving ten families in each struggling region a chance to thrive, not just survive.
This desire to help doesn’t come from a place of charity; it comes from deep understanding. I’ve seen struggle. I’ve lived through it. And I’ve learned that education is the key to change. That’s why I’m pursuing a path in medicine. Becoming a doctor isn’t just a career goal for me; it’s a mission. I want to work with global nonprofits, offer care in underserved areas, and build a life where I can financially support both my family and those in need.
One of my biggest goals in the next five years is to be enrolled in one of the top medical schools while continuing to save money so I can support my family and fund my education without burdening them. As a woman from a country where girls often don’t pursue advanced education, I feel a responsibility to break that barrier, not just for myself, but for others like me. I was lucky to come from a family that prioritized women’s education. My two sisters and I have taken that legacy forward, helping run the household, supporting our incredible mother, who carries so much and yet never complains, and excelling in school to make our family proud.
Leadership, to me, isn’t about titles. It’s about showing up when things get hard. It’s about being the first to speak up for others, the one who volunteers even when no one else does, and the person who makes sure everyone feels seen. Whether it was mentoring new students, comforting friends, or helping my family through transitions, I’ve learned that leadership is action rooted in empathy.
I know the road ahead won’t be easy. But I’ve faced my share of challenges and learned how to stay grounded even when life feels uncertain. Still, I’m aware that my struggles don’t compare to those living in places where hardship is a constant, where every hour brings new uncertainty, and even basic needs aren’t guaranteed. That awareness keeps me humble and deeply grateful for the opportunities I’ve had. If I were awarded this scholarship, it would be more than financial support; it would be a chance to ease some of the burden my family carries and to focus more fully on my education and my mission to serve. It would bring me one step closer to becoming someone who can give back to those whose daily realities are far more difficult than mine.
There is a spark in this world, a sense of deeper meaning, that I’ve always chased. And now, more than ever, I’m ready to be the person who lights that spark for others.
Barbara Cain Literary Scholarship
What separates a kind, thoughtful person from an ignorant one is their ability to stay open-minded and aware of the realities of the world around them. Reading Khaled Hosseini’s novels has been one of the most transformative experiences of my life. His books have taught me that every person, no matter where they come from, whether rich or poor, confident or quiet, has a story worth hearing.
In The Kite Runner, I was struck by the emotional complexity of Amir and Hassan’s relationship. Amir, a privileged Pashtun boy, desperately seeks his father’s approval, while Hassan, his Hazara servant’s son, is unwaveringly loyal. After winning a kite-fighting tournament, Amir witnesses Hassan being assaulted by a bully, Assef, but does nothing to help. His silence, driven by fear and shame, becomes a defining moment of guilt that haunts him for years.
This moment taught me that silence in the face of injustice causes real harm, and that guilt, while painful, can lead to growth. Amir’s decision to later return to Taliban-controlled Afghanistan to rescue Hassan’s orphaned son, Sohrab, reflects the courage it takes to seek redemption. The final scene, where Amir runs a kite for Sohrab, mirrors Hassan’s past kindness and symbolizes healing. I’ve learned that mistakes don’t define us, what matters is how we choose to confront them.
In A Thousand Splendid Suns, I connected deeply with both Mariam and Laila, two Afghan women whose lives intersect in unimaginable ways. Mariam, born an illegitimate child and shamed as a “harami,” endures loneliness, abuse, and rejection, yet her quiet strength and eventual self-sacrifice reveal immense courage. Laila, raised with love and education, loses everything in war, but refuses to surrender her will to survive. Forced into marriage with the same abusive man, the two women form a powerful bond that defies fear and oppression.
Their story taught me that resilience can grow in even the harshest conditions. Mariam’s final act, to protect Laila and her children, moved me deeply. It reminded me that strength isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s found in enduring pain, in choosing love over bitterness, or in fighting quietly for someone else’s future. Like Mariam and Laila, I am learning to face battles both inwardly and outwardly, to protect my voice, and to use it when it matters most.
And the Mountains Echoed deepened my understanding of how individual stories can span continents while remaining bound by the same threads of loss, love, and memory. The story of Abdullah and Pari, separated in childhood and unknowingly shaped by that fracture, reminded me how identity is often built on things we’ve forgotten, or never knew. Nabi’s confession, Idris’s broken promise, and Pari II’s quiet caretaking, all these stories offered me glimpses into how people try to make peace with their pasts. The yellow feather, passed silently across time, symbolized what can remain unspoken yet deeply felt. This book helped me realize that our lives, no matter how disconnected they may seem, are part of something larger joined together by memory, history, and love.
One of the most important things I’ve learned from Hosseini’s writing is that storytelling is not just for entertainment, it can be a powerful tool for raising awareness. He writes to shine a light on the struggles of people affected by the Afghan conflict, and in doing so, he inspires readers to care. That’s the kind of impact I hope to have. I want to use my voice and platform to bring attention to stories that often go untold. Whether through writing, advocacy, or community work, I aim to create space for empathy and change.